


Elbow to elbow

by queengabby



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Anxiety, Awkward Flirting, Comedy, Comfort, F/M, Friends to Lovers, High School Suffering, Mutual Pining, Panic Attacks, Teen Romance, Threats of Violence, maybe i'll try to keep out some of my constant swears, mild Bullying because Flash is gonna be in this but he's a bitch bastard, we'll see how jesus treats me today
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-08-29 23:19:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16753381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queengabby/pseuds/queengabby
Summary: Your crush on Peter Parker is pretty huge, but look, the pointisthat you're just trying to get by.And then Spiderman shows up to really toss the salad.





	1. Hold on now

**Author's Note:**

> me: i should finish (any chosen fic on my profile that says incomplete)  
> me: (posts a new peter parker/reader fic because i deserve to be struck down for my hubris)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  "The sun watches what I do but the moon knows all my secrets" -JM Wonderland

 

It’s on a regular patrol of Queens that brings trouble.

Peter spots you, one earbud in your hand, your other hand protectively tucked into the pocket of your bomber jacket. Someone is speaking to you, while your wrist carries a plastic bag of something heavy.

“Wait, that’s my friend.” he says, jumping down a rung of the ladder, trying to listen in on the conversation.

                  “Oh! The one you have feelings for.”

                  “K-Karen!”

                  “Oh I’m sorry – the one you love!”

                  Peter sputters uselessly, his voice coming out as a squeak. “J-just help me focus here, okay? What’re they saying?”

                  And Karen’s voice is all-too pleasant when she replies, “I believe your friend is being mugged.”

 

* * *

                  

It’s the glint of a knife that scares you. You’d never had a problem going to the convenience store in this area before. It felt like a case of the wrong place at the wrong time. And you felt sick to your stomach, frozen in terror as the man in front of you remains calm and darkly hooded in the shadows.

“Hey!” someone else blurts from close enough that it startles you, head turning automatically to see the incoming new danger. But as soon as the other figure comes into view, you see the familiar suit of one New York hero. Spiderman steps into the overhead light of the street lamp overhead and looks at the mugger. “You should invest in a knife block, pal.” Spiderman says.

And before the criminal has a chance to get any closer to you, a string of web shoots out and plasters both knife and crook to the brick siding of an apartment complex behind you. He groans, and you’re incapable of moving from your current spot.

“May I escort you home, miss?” Spiderman asks, stepping a bit closer. And you nod before the strong sense of vertigo hits you, and the city lights of New York become much much smaller.

You didn’t have to know a single thing about Spiderman except that _anyone_ caught in your current death grip would be left bruised. He’s brought you in the air with him. _You’re swinging around in the air with Spiderman._

You don’t particularly hate it, but it’s enough of a new experience that too much of a good thing becomes too much to bear. After about five minutes of silence, you must let out some sort of noise of discomfort because Spiderman is glancing at you between swings, seeing if you’re alright – maybe just assessing the situation. It wouldn’t be much for him to let go of you, but he’s got a shockingly good hold on you for someone who also has his hands full in terms of y’know,

Swinging between high rise buildings.

His hand leaves the small of your back when both your feet are on the ground of your balcony. It takes you an extra thirty seconds to figure out how to unclench your fingers from the shoulders and back of his suit.

“I’m sorry,” you sound winded, but you’re determined to see it through, “for hurting you.”

“You didn’t,” he says back, and without seeing his face you have no idea if he’s lying. “Hey, hey, hey,” he approaches you, and you don’t understand that he’s still talking to you until your vision almost blacks out completely. “Are you okay?” he asks, his voice going an octave higher.

Your throat is too tight to reply and you can’t feel your legs – but Spiderman is crouching in front of you and _oh_ you’re sitting on the ground. Okay.

“Karen what’s happening?”

Karen? “Who’s Karen?” you hear yourself say and he holds your arms steady.

“She’s uh – my friend? My suit.”

“Your suit is your friend?”

“Yeah, I _know_ Karen!” Spiderman seems to be on the verge of a panic attack himself. “I want you to take deep breaths with me, okay?”

And then the eyes on Spiderman’s suit widen just a bit, as his chest heaves in, and then out. You follow his motions, letting him hold onto your arms to keep you steady.

He says your name gently, “You’re doing great,” he encourages.

“How do you know my name?” you ask, mid-breath.

“Uhh, learner’s permit?”

“You went through my wallet?”

“N-no! I didn’t! Please just – just focus on breathing!”

And you acquiesce, closing your eyes again to continue the exercise.

When it’s clear that the attack has passed, Spiderman lets go of your arms and steps back. And then you’re overcome with humiliation.

“I bet nobody you’ve ever rescued followed up your heroism with a panic attack.” you try for humor but it sounds self-deprecating.

He glances back at you and then sits cross-legged in front of you. “Actually, I did.”

“Hm?” your head is resting on the side of the apartment, your body coming down from its adrenaline high. You’re almost drowsy now.

“Sometimes I’d swing too hard and then I’d land, and the gravity rush would scare me.” he makes a show of lifting one of his arms into the air and swooping it down, “There was also this one time I was on the Washington Monument and I had to jump over a helicopter—”

“Jesus,”

“Yeah, tell me about it.” he replies.

You sigh, closing your eyes again. It’s quiet for a beat, and you wonder if he’s left.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and your eyes fly open.

“What?”

“I didn’t even ask before I grabbed you,” he looks down at his hands and then over at your shoulder, resolutely looking away from your eyes, “it must’ve been scary.”

You shrug, “Nah, I trust you.”

That gets his attention. He tilts his head, the eyes of his mask growing wide. “You do?”

“Why not?”

He laughs nervously, “Well, you don’t know me.”

“So you _did_ go through my wallet.”

He sputters, obviously taken off guard, and you laugh.

It goes quiet again, and Spiderman turns his head to the side, as if he’s listening to something you can’t hear.

“Yeah, I got it Karen.” he says, and then stands up.

“I gotta go, uh,” he looks a bit guilty at leaving you in your current state but you just smile.

“Thanks for the save.” you offer, and then think better of it, “Be careful out there.”

The eyes of his suit squint as if he’s smiling, “O-okay, thanks, I uh, I hope you feel better!” and he slings his web to the side of your apartment building, snapping up like a rubber band, and out of sight.

 

* * *

 

“I _‘hope you feel better’?_ Ugh,” Peter grumbles to himself.

“I thought it was sweet.” Karen pipes up.

“It wasn’t sweet Karen, it was stupid!” he hops up onto the roof of a building, aiming out his next web shot, “Who says ‘hope you feel better’ after they induce a panic attack?”

“Well my analysis was that she only had _symptoms_ of oncoming syncope. A panic attack _because_ of anxiety would cause her to faint.” Karen says as Peter jumps down and swings off a lamp post, “But it could’ve also been situational – which means you just put her in a _situation_ that made her almost pass out.”

Peter makes a noise somewhere between exhaustion and guilt. “Oh that’s great! That makes me feel so much better.”

“I’m happy to help, Peter!”


	2. This is gettin' kinda serious

Peter adjusts his pose about three times against his locker before he seems to settle down. “So, how was, uh—”

            “Pete I’m _so sorry_ I didn’t finish the homework!” you raise your hands and clasp them together in front of you with your chemistry textbook under your arm, trying for a symbol of prayer.

            He gives you a shy smile, “Well, I was gonna ask how your night was—”

            “That’s exactly why I didn’t do it! See I was almost mugged –”

            “Wha—”

            “You both bailed!” a voice comes from behind your locker door. You close it, coming face to face with Ned, who’s staring with a Lego Luke Skywalker figurine in his left hand and Lego Leia in the other.

            “Dude, she was mugged last night!” Peter gestures to you, his eyebrows raised.

            Ned blinked back in shock, “What! What happened!”

            “Well I was trying to buy milk,” you start.

            “Oh…is that all?” he interrupts.

            “Dude,” Peter repeats, more exasperated than before.

            “Ned,” you put up a hand in mock offense. “Lactose intolerance is a biological condition, not an excuse for your…” you struggle to find an adequate end to your joke which, quite frankly, had gone on long enough, “milk _prejudice_.”

Ned glances to Peter who only raises his eyebrows higher and gives a half smile.

“Also it was chocolate.” you add.

            Ned laughs, “Alright, I’m sorry. Please carry on.”

            “Someone have chocolate milk?” MJ comes up behind you, carrying her backpack on one shoulder, taking a bite out of a PB&J sandwich with her free hand.

            “Yes, _me,_ thankfully. Thanks to Spiderman.”

            “Spiderman?” Ned sounds mildly surprised, as you check that your locker is secured. When you look back, he and Peter are looking away from each other and back at you.

            “Yeah,” you start trying to parse the vibe between them, but let it go in favor of a joke, “Got to find out what it _really_ feels like to embarrass myself in front of a superhero, but hey that’s just how it is sometimes.”

MJ finishes off her PB&J sandwich, and claps her hands together, “Amen.”

            “Well, hey there’s a party tonight at Betty’s.” Ned offers, “She told me to pass it on.”

            “Betty Brant?” you squint, “Why?”

            “She’s reaching out since the whole Liz thing last year.” MJ adds. “Start the Fall semester off on good terms or whatever.”

            The bell rings and Ned elbows Peter, “Better be off. See you guys at lunch?”

            They both wave to you and MJ as you double check your books, planning to head in the other direction.

            It’s a moment of quiet before MJ speaks.

“So does this whole ‘saved by Spidey’ thing change the whole Peter crush?”

Your eyes widen, looking up at her and then avoiding that all-knowing gaze. You feign laughter, “Uhhh, I don’t know what you’re _talking_ about, ma’am—”

            “Did you just call me ma’am?”

“Not that it _matters,_ Spiderman’s cool,” you start, and smile “But he’s not Peter Parker.”

“Ew.”

You laugh, shoving at MJ. “Let’s get going.”

As you’re about to turn the corner, you hear a voice call after you.

“Hey bookworm!”

You turn and see Flash Thompson holding one of the Star Wars keychains _supposed_ to be attached to your backpack.

“Looks like you dropped your nerd token.” he says, eyes sliding back to his phone.

You snatch the keychain from Flash’s hand before he can say anything else.

“C’mon.” MJ says, unfolding her arms from her chest to take your hand and drag you to class.

“Star Wars isn’t even nerd culture anymore.” you grouse under your breath.

MJ rolls her eyes, “Move on, babe.”

* * *

“Why am _I_ going to this party?” you ask, sitting on the edge of your bed as MJ pours over your barren makeup collection. You push at the sleeves of your sweater, which appropriately has ‘SO FAR SO GOOD’ printed on the front in multiple colors.

“Because _we_ don’t have plans,” MJ brushes some of your hair from your face, “And because I love free food.”

“I wasn’t technically invited—”

“None of us were but I’m inviting you. There! You’re invited.”

            “MJ…”

            “Oh don’t be such a downer, you look super hot and Ned made a group chat for it, so you know it’s serious. _And_ Peter’s going.”

            You look everywhere but at MJ, laughing in faux-astonishment. “I don’t know _why_ you think I would care a-about…about _that_ information,”

She stares at you, even as you put on your act of complete debauchery. And you continue your ranting despite your better judgement.

“B-but I’ll have you know it doesn’t change _anything._ A-and honestly how…h-how dare you assume—”

“You are seriously tragic. Stop moving I’m gonna fix your eyeliner.”

            About twenty minutes later, Ned texts MJ to give her an update on the carpool situation, “Peter said he had to take care of something before the party, he’s gonna be late.”

            “Are Ned’s parents still driving us?”

            “Yup,” MJ types something quick and laughs, showing you her screen, a picture of Ned wearing a hat next to his cat.

            “Einstein has her license?” you gasp.

            “Yeah!” MJ smiles enthusiastically, “Now let’s get going before I die from second-hand embarrassment!” her smile drops and you laugh.

            You’re about to shove your phone into your back pocket, but check your messages for posterity’s sake. A photo message from Peter: him posing with a 2L carton of chocolate milk like a newborn baby.

           

**Peter, 8:20PM:**

It’s a girl!!!!

 

**You, 8:23PM:**

she’s beautiful!

 

**Peter, 8:24PM:**

you and MJ talk to Ned?

 

**You, 8:26PM:**

ya! .....don’t tell me you’re gonna be late cus you were buying chocolate milk

 

**Peter, 8:26PM:**

:shushing emoji:

 

**You, 8:27PM:**

your secret is safe with me Parker

 

**Peter, 8:28PM:**

:praying emoji:  

 

 

 

            You’d never been to Betty’s house before tonight. It’s made pretty clear when she opens the door that she was expecting outfits a bit more –

            “Keeping it casual?” she asks, and you take note of her black skirt and purple blouse ensemble topped with a glittering hairband. _Your majesty._

            “Hey Betty,” Ned’s wearing a tie and button down with a comfy looking blazer. Peter, you, and MJ had all begged him to get it since it looked so good on him, especially with the little elbow patches.

            “Hi Ned,” Betty smiles, and though it looks genuine, it quickly fades when it moves back to you. You know Betty doesn’t hate you – you have a feeling that she’s pretty much incapable of hating anyone. She just doesn’t know how to take you.

            “Shall we?” MJ says, and Betty clears her throat before stepping aside to let the three of you in, lead by Michelle.

            There are a lot of people that you recognize but don’t know the names of, so, standard high school party. Flash is at the DJ booth, which you’ve been told is a common occurrence at house parties. You figure its less about his ability to keep the music playing and more about his ability to intimidate to get what he wants. He glances up just as you’re looking at him and smirks. Yuck.

It’s unconscionably dark in the living room which is made clear when you almost bump into multiple modern-looking coffee tables. You’re half expecting to elbow an expensive vase off a shelf so you tuck your arms closer to your sides as you weave between people.

You make it to the kitchen with MJ and Ned, and spy a few stray people rationing out the last of the Mountain Dew.

            There are bags upon bags of chips and candies strewn across the counter, which almost looks comical against the backdrop of expensive looking kitchen appliances and a fancy Keurig cup display rack.

            “Think they got any bread?”

            “Check the pantry,” you point at a door that’s narrow than the ones in the rest of the house. When MJ opens it up, she turns on the light and gives you a thumbs up.

            “Pepsi?” Ned offers and you shake your head.

            “Last time I drank soda after 8PM I was up all night.”

            “What are you, 65?”

            “Yes Ned,” you put a hand on his shoulder, “I’m sorry you had to find out this way.” He shrugs you off and shakes his head with a laugh.

            “There’s probably iced tea in the fridge.” he offers.

            “How do you know that?” you squint and Ned spins the top closed on the Pepsi bottle. You open up one of the fridge doors and, lo and behold, there is a bulk-sized jug of iced tea.

            “Betty was my partner for a history presentation last year.” he shrugs, “Came over to work on the project once and her parents went nuts with the drinks.”

            “Aw,” MJ sits on the counter next to the toaster after she’s pressed down on the lever. “They grow up so fast…”

            Ned rolls his eyes, “I’m gonna take a walk around, I’ll be back.”

            “Good luck out there,” you top up your cup with iced tea and put the jug back in the fridge while MJ puts peanut butter on her toast.

            The music dies down and Flash’s voice booms into a microphone.

            “I’ve got a _very_ special halftime presentation, I’d like everyone to divert their attention to the projection screen,”

            MJ nods her head to you and the two of you venture out to the living room where your classmates were crowded around and looking up in confusion.  

            There’s a white sheet pulled down near the fireplace, set up with a projector up above. The video that’s playing is shakey at first, though you recognize the background immediately – hard to forget the familiar tile pattern of Midtown’s hallway flooring. And then you see someone picking up your Star Wars keychain where it had fallen near your locker.

 

_“So does this change the whole Peter crush?”_

            _“Uhhh, I don’t know what you’re talking about, ma’am—”_

_“Did you just call me ma’am?”_

 

Your blood runs cold, seeing the back of your bookbag in the video, next to MJ’s silhouette. Even from the shitty footage, it’s clear who you are.

 

_“Not that it matters – Spiderman’s cool. But he’s not Peter Parker.”_

 

The rest of the audio is still playing but you feel as if you’re underwater. You’d like to be. Frankly you’re thinking of running out and jumping into the pool in the backyard to get it over with. You look over at MJ who is staring behind you. You turn, and pray that they didn’t show up yet, you pray _pray –_

But MJ is looking at the one person who shouldn’t bear witness, who _can’t._ It’s Peter, with Ned next to him. He’s got his phone in his hand and the light bouncing off the screen is blinding but he’s not looking at it, he’s staring at _you_.

Wide brown eyes that you may just drown in.

You turn back around and make a beeline for the hallway, but MJ catches your arm on the way out, “Hey hey—wait, it’s okay. You’re okay.” she’s not looking at you, she’s looking at Flash like she about to commit first degree murder.

            Your voice is tight and small when you get the words out, “Yeah I’m fine.” you say it like you’re talking about the weather. Like these last few minutes were totally harmless and definitely didn’t ruin your entire conceivable life. You pry her fingers off your arm, “On a totally unrelated note I’m gonna go throw up in the bathroom.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sweater inspo: https://oldnavy.gap.com/webcontent/0016/494/888/cn16494888.jpg


End file.
